


glaciers have melted to the sea

by aiineslin



Series: and we all float on okay [1]
Category: Worst - 髙橋ヒロシ | Takahashi Hiroshi
Genre: Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 07:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19224061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiineslin/pseuds/aiineslin
Summary: one day, his phone buzzes. an unknown number shows up on the screen, and sera being sera, he picks up.





	glaciers have melted to the sea

**Author's Note:**

> tbh this is really just a super indulgent piece where i let my thoughts meander  
> yeah so im of the opinion sera and amachi lowkey became friends in the time period between amachi getting his ass kicked and the manji arc  
> title taken from the xx - crystalised

One day, his phone buzzes. An unknown number shows up on the screen, and Sera being Sera, he picks up.

“Hey.”

He recognises the voice, syllables cut-glass upper-class.

“Hey,” he says back. Smoke curls from his untouched cigarette, drifting in the wind.

“Want to get dinner together?”

And Sera being Sera, he puts his cigarette to his mouth, inhales and exhales and he says, “Yeah, sure.”

*

Amachi picks a small family restaurant. The tables have circular water marks from past drinks imprinted on them and multi-coloured prints plaster the walls. The drink bar languishes at a corner; half of its drink fountains have apologetic out-of-order notes stuck to them.

Sera arrives early, scopes out the surrounding streets and enters the restaurant. He chooses a spot near the back, a place that offers him a clear view of the entrance.

When Amachi rolls up, he comes alone, dressed plainly in a black shirt and blue jeans.

“You actually wear something other than your school uniform, huh,” observes Sera.

Amachi removes his sunglasses, staring flatly and un-amusedly at Sera.

Sera grins, unrepentant.

Amachi tsks and takes the seat opposite Sera, settling irritably into the chair.

“The karaage is good,” says Amachi without preamble. He has the order paper in his right hand, the pencil held in his left. He has not looked at Sera since he sat down, marking down his orders busily on the flimsy paper. “I recommend the soy milk carbonara too.”

“That sounds, interesting,” says Sera slowly, paging through the lurid menu. He looks at the picture of the soy milk carbonara. The caption touted it as the healthiest carbonara to be found in the civilised world. There are exclamation marks.

“Ah, what the hell,” Sera says, snapping the menu shut. He had a strong stomach. “Get me the soy milk carbonara.”

“You won’t regret it,” Amachi promises.

Is that a smile?

*

Later, Sera spends a painful fifteen minutes in the toilet.

He texts Amachi while he is on the toilet. _Did you know this was going to happen?_

Amachi replies within the minute. _It’s cleansing._

Sera cannot help but snort out a small, pained chuckle.

*

The dinners continue.

Amachi calls as and when he likes, always beginning with a terse, “Hey.”

(Sera witnesses Amachi speaking to Daitou on the phone once. He did not open with a greeting.)

They meet in cheap diners, fast food restaurants, cramped ramen stalls, smoky izakayas where no-one batted an eye at their presence and one memorable Saturday, Amachi turns up with two train tickets at his doorstep.

His mother yells for Sera, “Nao-chan, you’ve got a friend!”

He rolls out of the shower, wet hair slicked flat to his head, a towel cinched around his waist, “If it’s Toyonaga, tell him I don’t have the –“

He stops dead in the hallway, staring at Amachi. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Hey,” says Amachi woodenly, and he brandishes the tickets. “Let’s go eat sushi in Tokyo.”

It is where does Sera’s mother chooses to butt in, fascination tingeing her voice as she ping-ponged her gaze between the duo. “If you don’t want to go, I can fill in for you.”

“ _Hell_ no, if there’s sushi I’m gonna be the one eating it,” Sera says. He rakes a thumb across his hairline. “Ma, I’ll be back home late.”

*

Amachi navigates them to a standing sushi bar located on the corner of a Shibuya street. The interior is small, neat and filled to the brim with a mix of locals and tourists.

They take up position at the furthermost corner of the bar, close to one of the sushi chefs. Sera watches him fascinatedly, observing the deftness of his fingers as he pinched together rice, wasabi and fish in neat, practiced movements.

Beside him, Amachi is already running a finger over the pictures.

“Let’s start with tamagoyaki,” Amachi decides.

“Or we can have otoro,” suggests Sera, glancing at the menu.

Amachi quirks an eyebrow at him and Sera shrugs, smiles.

“We came all the way to Shibuya for sushi.”

Amachi tilts his head to the corner, and Sera can see the gears of his mind turning as he considers and evaluates, and Amachi nods. “True.”

*

They spend a whole day in Tokyo and her various districts; they eat their fill of ramen and takoyaki and various other foods – and Sera rounds off the day by treating them to Starbucks.

Amachi buys an Americano because _of course_ he does, and Sera goes for the seasonal special of pudding frappuccino.

“Disgusting,” Amachi says as he eyes the whipped cream monstrosity Sera is holding.

“Delicious,” says Sera placidly, and he takes an extra-loud slurp from his drink.

*

His dinners with Amachi do not escape the notice of his peers.

Abo is as blunt as ever when he finds out that Sera spent an entire day in Tokyo with Amachi – “Did you just go on a fucking date with that blondie?”

They have skipped school in favour of an early dinner at the cheap diner where Amachi has brought him so many months ago.

Sera pauses, smoke trickling from the corner of his mouth. “No?”

Abo pounces on the question mark. “What’s with that pussy ass no?” His brows furrow. “Fucking hell, you went on a _date_ with him.” He pushes up close to Sera, a little too close for comfort. “Manami-chan has cute friends I can introduce you to, Sera. I know you’re not popular with the girls but you don’t have to give up on them.”

Sera leans away and blows a stream of smoke into Abo’s face, forcing the other to shake his head irritably. “Fuck off. I’ve gotten more love letters than you in middle school.”

“Yeah, and you’ve never had a girlfriend for more than a month, unlike me.”

They smoke in silence for a moment, and as Abo stared into the distance, he thinks and he thinks and he thinks, and finally Abo looks at Sera.

And it must be said, for even though Abo is ten kinds of a blockhead, he is terribly smart about certain things and one has to remember, Abo has kept a steady girlfriend since middle school and is more than slightly well-versed in the matters of the heart.

“Be careful,” says Abo. He reached out, patted Sera awkwardly, roughly on the arm – a pat that is more punch.

“I’ll be fine,” says Sera. He ashes his cigarette out in the bowl. “I think we have an understanding.”

Abo snorts, a snort which sounds suspiciously like, “Yeah, right.”

*

“You know,” his mom says one day out of the blue. “You can invite that Amachi-kun around for dinner on Tuesday.”

They are watching the television while they fold the laundry together, and Sera pauses, letting his shirt dangle loosely from his hands.

“You’re cooking?”

“Mm-hmm,” hums his mother. Her hands continue to move, folding her blouses into neat little squares. “I’m planning to make curry. Does Amachi-kun like curry?”

Sera folds his shirt slowly. The soap drama plays on in the background; a man has just found out his lover is in fact, his sister. “Yeah. He does.”

“Great,” chirps his mother. “I’ll make more curry for Tuesday.”

*

_My mom wants you to come around for dinner._

He putters around the house, sweeping and mopping the floor, wiping down his bookshelf and table – he even waters the plants. His phone remains close to him, placed prominently on surfaces in near proximity.

Finally, the screen lights up.

_Why?_

_What do you do at dinner? You eat._

The seconds go by, and Sera’s screen lights up again.

_Should I bring flowers?_

Sera expels a snort of amusement.

_Fuck, no. Just bring yourself._

*

Amachi brings with him a beautifully wrapped box of Momiji-manju on Tuesday.

“Oh my god, Amachi-kun,” says Sera’s mother, staring down at the box. The wrapping is elegant, understated in the way only really expensive things are.

“My father just came back from a business trip to Hiroshima,” says Amachi, and he is so _polite_ , Sera _stares_.

“It’s lovely,” says Sera’s mother, and she pets Amachi’s back. “We can have this for dessert later!”

It really is a nice dinner. The curry is flavourful and hot, and when they are done, they eat the Momiji-manju with green tea. Through it all, Amachi is polite and genial, he makes jokes and small talk about the weather, politics and various other topics with Sera’s mother and Sera is in awe at this new side of Amachi, the grace in which he handles the flow of socialising.  

(At one point, Sera wanted to point a finger at Amachi and yell, “This is not the permanently angry Amachi I know! This is a fake! Get him the fuck outta here!”)

When it is almost nine, Sera’s mother announces that she is going to bed. “I have an early day at work tomorrow.” She touches Amachi’s shoulder lightly. “You should come around for dinner more often, Amachi-kun.” Her gaze flicks to Sera. “I’m glad you’re friends with my Nao-chan.”

So saying, she exits the living room.

They are quiet until they hear the click of the bedroom door, and Sera turns his gaze on Amachi.

“Where did you learn how to talk to adults like that?”

“My father brings me with him to business dinners sometimes,” Amachi shrugs. He jerks a thumb to the front door. “Smoke?”

Sera nods, unfolds himself and stands up, holding a hand out to Amachi. Amachi takes it, rising to his feet with a soft grunt.

Outside, a drizzle has started up. Droplets of rain blow into the corridor where Amachi and Sera stand, splattering their shoes lightly.

Amachi offers him a light. The flame shudders in the rising wind, snapping and flickering.

Sera leans over, inhales, watches the tip of his cigarette spark to life.

“I’ll walk you to the station when we’re done,” Sera says.

“Thanks,” says Amachi gruffly. He tucks the lighter away into his pocket. “And thank you for dinner. Your mom is really nice.” He studies his cigarette. “Dinners at my place are crap.”

“Yeah?”

Amachi rolls his cigarette between his fingers. A pillar of ash grows. “Dad and mom are always working. The maid is shit at cooking as well. Last time. My real dad would make dinner for both of us. We'd eat together. But. Nowadays. Nah.” He shrugs. The rain is increasing in intensity. Amachi turns, looks at Sera. “I like having dinner with you.”

The rain is sleeting down. Sera can barely make out the signboards of the shops opposite his house.

“Do you want to stay over?” Sera’s voice does not shake. “Don’t think the rain is going to let up any time soon.”

Amachi tilts his head to the side – a movement, Sera has since realised, he only sees when Amachi is around him.

It does not take Amachi long to answer.

“Alright.”

*

“Manami-chan still has friends I can introduce you to, you know,” says Abo mildly as he watches the familiar blonde figure of Amachi approach.

They are waiting at the station with a train to Tokyo; Amachi had professed a craving for Ichiran ramen.

“I’m good,” says Sera, and he steps forward, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.


End file.
